Time's Fool (14 page)

“Yes,” admitted Gideon, tight-lipped. “My apologies for that. But I'm here now, sir. Anything I can do to help—”

Sir Mark gave an exasperated snort. “Help, is it? Faith, but you are in no condition to help anyone! 'Tis very obvious you've brought yourself home properly knocked up!”

‘Nothing has changed,' thought Gideon. His head was pounding brutally now, his shoulder throbbed persistently, and he could not fail to resent being combed out when he felt so wretched. But he did not propose to be again defeated by his temper, and to an extent his father was justified. He stifled his irritation, and said quietly, “Sir, I think you know in your heart that had it been possible, I would have come at once, but the sincerest declarations cannot change the past. Pray tell me what has happened.”

Newby said with a scowl, “My father don't want to rake it all up again! Had you been here, as you should—”

“I think it has been thoroughly established that I was not here,” snapped Gideon, his patience deserting him. Newby's glare scorched at him, and well aware that his survival must have thwarted his brother's ambitions, Gideon added ironically, “Overjoyed to see me, eh, twin?”

“I give you joy of your inheritance,” riposted Newby, “if nothing—”

Sir Mark's voice was harsh. “Have done, both of you! Have done! Newby, you may leave us. No need to hear all this.”

Newby said sulkily, “I do not want you to be upset, sir.”

“I know, I know. You're a good boy. But go now. Gideon is my heir, and has a right to be told.”

Newby hesitated, then shrugged, bowed to his father, and sauntered from the room.

“I hear most twins are regular bosom bows,” muttered Sir Mark, as the door closed.

Gideon choked back an involuntary rejoinder and said instead, “Sir, I am not come home to cut up your peace. If 'tis unpleasant for you, Gwendolyn can tell me the details.”

“Your sister don't know the details. We've shielded her insofar as we were able. Sit yourself down, boy.” Sir Mark went to the sideboard, refilled his glass, and stood staring down at the rich amber wine. “It began simply enough,” he said with slow reluctance. “Loans, mostly. To men I'd known all my life. Fine fellows, to whom I was under some obligation or other. Large loans, but certainly they were good for it. Then—there was a fire at the shipyard. You likely did not hear of it, but 'twas a most ghastly thing. The night watchmen were drunk—as we then thought! People came to help, but by the time the bell was rung there was no stopping it. They no sooner quenched it in one place than 'twould flare up in another. When dawn came…” He sighed heavily. “The buildings were gutted. Four men burned to death—dozens badly injured, three nigh completed frigates destroyed. The newspapers blamed me and the directors. They held we'd not taken proper precautions, and that flammable supplies were stored too close to the stoves. There was an official investigation. That weasel Murchison testified he had warned me that we stood in dire need of pumps and hoses, and that many buckets were rusted through. He claimed I said they'd cost more than they were worth!” He drove one fist into his palm, his face flushed with wrath. “Lies! All lies! He never breathed a word to me about the need for new fire equipment!”

Gideon kept his thoughts to himself, and watched in silence as his father paced agitatedly about the room.

“I did what I could for the bereaved.” Sir Mark gave a snort of bitter frustration. “What can one supply that will replace a life? I diverted a large sum from my private account, and we began to get the shipyard set to rights. Then—everything happened at once. We had invested heavily—damned heavily!—in a most promising company trading with China. Norberly insisted on extensive investigation, and it still looked to be a regular mine of gold, so we bought controlling shares. It turned out that the stock had been sold many times over, but by the time we discovered that accursed fact, it was too late. We lost an enormous sum. Three days later, Samuel Davies, one of my most trusted officers at the bank, absconded with bonds and cash to the value of … of over a hundred thousand. We understood the fellow was ill, and by the time his accounts were checked…” He shrugged. “He was away clear, and I began to see ruin creeping up on me. But—damme! we still could have recouped, had not the rumour mills started! Before we knew it, we were faced with panic. A run on the bank—demands for funds we could not cover. Within one day we were … wiped out.”

Appalled by this litany of mismanagement, Gideon contrived to keep his voice calm. “You said you'd authorized large loans to some old friends. Could they not have helped, sir?”

“Oh, they could! Undeniably! But”—his mouth twisting into a sneer, Sir Mark said—“'twould seem they'd been called out of the country. Suddenly. On urgent business.”

“I see. And my lord Norberly? Sir Louis Derrydene? Your other investors and stockholders?”

“Many of 'em managed by one means or another to quietly withdraw their funds.”

“Good God! At the time of the run on the bank?”

“The day before.” Avoiding his son's eyes, the baronet muttered, “I was down at the Point with—” He broke off, and looked down, reddening. “And unaware of it 'til 'twas much too late.”

“Of all the damnable tricks!”

Sir Mark's abased head swung upward again. “Tricks, you say?
Tricks? No!
That ain't the word, deuce take me if it is!
Conspiracy,
rather!”

Gideon's jaw dropped. Staring at his father's convulsed face, he echoed, “
Conspiracy?
Sir—what in heaven's name…?”

“Aye, you may stare! Think me mad, do you? You're not alone, burn it! But conspiracy I say, and conspiracy I mean! To the fullest extent of the word!” Sir Mark dragged a chair to face Gideon and sat down, leaning forward and speaking with passionate intensity. “I could accept it as coincidence that some major investments failed; that some large loans were in default. But that Davies should embezzle so gigantic a sum—and vanish from the face of the earth? That my shipyard should have
chanced
to catch fire; my principal stockholders should withdraw their funds; and all within
two weeks
? No, by God!”

Stunned, Gideon stared at his father in silence. Then, he said slowly, “You mentioned that the guards at the shipyard were drunk. You said, ‘As we then thought.' What did you mean?”

“That I now believe them to have been drugged! Do you see? Do you
see
? 'Twas a conspiracy, I tell you! A deliberate and merciless plan to ruin me! That is why I need you, Gideon! To prove me innocent. To restore my good name, even if my fortune, my estates, are lost!”

It was very clear that the poor old boy had cracked under the strain. Small wonder. Gideon said carefully, “Er—have you any suspicions, sir? Do you guess who is behind it?”

“Would that I did!” Sir Mark sprang to his feet again and set his glass on a table. “I've appealed to my friends, argued with Bow Street, hired investigators—in vain. Behind my back they all laugh at me and—damn their ears!—they think I will not accept the responsibility for my failure. That I seek to cloud the truth!”

“I see … Well, 'tis said that if murder is done, find first the man who has most to gain.”

“They all gained! The promoters of that damnable trading company. The men who took out loans, and then left the country! The treacherous bastard who embezzled.” Sir Mark muttered broodingly, “All in league against me, fiend seize 'em!”

“But—sir, they were your friends! Besides, they all are independently wealthy. I'd think
their
reputations are lost also. Surely such an involved plot as you envision must be extreme costly, as well as a very great risk. Besides, who gained from burning your shipyard? I cannot—”

“You are saying you do not believe me, I think?”

Shocked by the savage fury in his father's face, Gideon said hurriedly, “I certainly do not rule out the possibility of such a conspiracy, sir. You'll recollect that I never had any use for Norberly and Derrydene! And as for that slimy wart Murchison—”

His cheeks flushing, Sir Mark snarled, “You warned me, is that what you say? By heaven, if you've come home to gloat over me—to say ‘I told you so'—I'll not have it! You may take yourself back to your confounded regiment and—”

Gideon sprang up and went to throw his arm about his father's shoulders. “No, sir. How can you think it of me? We'll come at the root of this somehow. We must, if we're to keep Promontory Point and—”

“So you know about that, do you, twin?” Newby wandered into the room, his eyes narrowing when he saw Gideon's arm about Sir Mark. “How did you learn that item of gossip, pray? From your ex-light o'love, perhaps? I heard you'd called on her.”

Sir Mark stiffened and stepped back. “You've never been to Collington, Gideon?”

“I have, sir.”

“Do not—
ever
—do so again! That ungrateful swine was in the forefront of those naming me … embezzeler—thief.
Me
! He could scarce wait to cry off from your betrothal to his daughter. As though that young woman had not won her share of notoriety with her disgraceful behaviour both here and on the Continent!” His face dark with anger, he went on, “Why the
devil
did you have to go crawling there? You should have come to me first! Not to that little jade!”

Gideon's jaw tightened. He said, “I was not aware the betrothal was terminated, sir. And when I went to the Point—”

“Gad,
did
you?” Amused, Newby asked, “Yesterday? You must have just missed her. That would have been a jolly meeting, I declare!”

Gideon demanded sharply, “What d'you mean? Was Naomi at the Point?”

“Yes, indeed. She came driving in, all airy-fairy innocence, pretending she'd supposed us all away. I fancy she came to have a look at you, twin.”

“Confounded gall!” raged Sir Mark.

“One must be objective, Papa.” Newby swung his quizzing glass and smiled at his brother's expressionless face. “My lady is a tasty morsel—even if she has been … ah, tasted—by numerous gentlemen of—”

Gideon was on him in a pantherish leap. The quizzing glass was seized and jerked up to be twisted about Newby's throat. An impassioned voice growled, “Your lying mouth is as full of the gutter as ever! You'd best control it whilst I'm within hearing, brother, for a very little time spent in your company inspires me with the desire to throw you through the nearest window!”

Sir Mark ran to tear Gideon's grip from the riband that was choking Newby, and thrust him away. “Let him be, you young savage!”

Gideon reeled back. With every breath now, his head seemed to split apart then clap back together. He began to feel sick, and grasped a chair for support.

“Damn … you…,” uttered Newby hoarsely, clutching his throat. “If it ain't typical you'd … cuddle up to—m'father's enemies!”

Sir Mark stamped to the bell pull and gave it a series of tugs which galvanized those in the lower regions of the house. “You are very obviously ill, so I shall excuse you—this time,” he said, his voice quivering with anger. “But know this, Gideon. Your betrothal to the Lady Naomi Lutonville is at an end. If you
ever
have anything to say to that wanton, or her ungrateful wretch of a father—you may remove yourself from my house! I cannot disinherit you. I
can
make sure that for the duration of my life you cease to be a son of mine!”

Gideon's attempt to respond was foiled. His bones felt like water, and the scene was becoming blurred and indistinct. He was vaguely aware that someone had come into the room, that his father was giving orders, and that he was being gently led out and half-carried up the stairs. As from a great distance he heard Newby's bray of a laugh and heard him say, “Quite like old times, eh, Papa?”

Another voice was echoing in his ears—Tio Glendenning's easy drawl. “… If ever I heard of so wretched a homecoming!”

The footman supporting Captain Rossiter's wavering figure glanced up. “What'd he say?”

Sir Mark's valet answered, “Something about ‘tea' being very right.”

The footman grunted. “Well, we all knows that, don't we!”

CHAPTER SEVEN

“'Tis very kind of Miss Falcon,” agreed Naomi, making her way along the crowded aisle of the Bloomsbury Bazaar. “But I've a notion she intended to wear that particular shawl herself. Besides, I really would like one trimmed with swansdown to match my gown.”

Maggie, following in the wake of her employer, said repentantly, “I be that sorry, milady. How I come to not pack it I cannot think.”

“Oh, pish. We left in such a scramble 'twas no more your fault than mine own. Ah! See—on that table over there; the zephyr gauze! It looks to be just the pale pink of the embroidery on the underskirt, and can we but find an ell or two of white swansdown 'twill look divinely.”

Maggie, slightly nearsighted, peered uncertainly. “Oh, does you mean by the crippled lady?”

“Hush! She'll hear you!” Naomi slipped through the throng in the popular bazaar. The young lady Maggie had referred to was inspecting an ell of fine lace, and Naomi waited politely for a chance to reach the gauze.

Leaning on a walking cane, the crippled girl moved awkwardly, collided with Naomi, and glanced up, smiling in shy apology. She was not a beauty, but the fine-boned face with its high forehead and generous mouth had a rare sweetness of expression, and her short powdered ringlets were charmingly arranged under the dainty laced cap. She gave a gasp and her blue eyes lit up. “Naomi!”

One mittened hand went out instinctively, then was withdrawn. Blushing, she stammered in confusion, “Oh! Your pardon. I should not—”